Beyond Our Stars, Part One: Foundations
by KallenTheNightSwan
Summary: A supposedly routine mission results in a new member who is a bit weird, even for Shepard. But even she can't deny that the human girl isn't a bad addition to the group, especially when she seems to help her best friend find himself again. Eventually, Garrus finds he may have a chance at love after-all - but will he take the form it comes in? (Pt. 1 in "Beyond Our Stars" universe).
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello, all!**

 **Thank you to Lady Rav for providing me with a prompt; she suggested I try my hand at writing a Garrus V. x OC human romance, with a healthy dosage of mental abuse, angst and a tiny bit of genetic modification - just to make it more interesting. :)**

 **This helped renew an idea I had buried and entertained for awhile, waaaay back, it seems; since I never got around to it, and this got me going, I think it's time.**

 **Don't worry! I won't abandon my other stories. I know Rocket Meets His Match is a fav - but as it's a long one, I need something else to write to help my creative juices to keep flowing.**

 **So, without further ado - enjoy this little scene before the story begins...**

"GraaaAAAaaaHhh…"

Dragging his tri-digit hand down his face in exasperation before bringing his other hand up to cradle his face in hopes of hiding from his infuriating Captain.

Shepard sits across from him, lounging comfortably with a drink in her hand.

"Sounds like you are the one who needs the drink, Garrus. Care to share your frustrations?"

He didn't need to look at his Captain to know she was wearing an infuriating smirk, finding his dilemma 'oh-so-amusing,' but he moves his two digits aside and shoots her a glare for good measure – not that it did any good, Shepard had nerves of steel and would never waver under the scrutiny of any race – but it did make him feel a bit better.

She held his one-eyed Turian glare before he sighed heavily and drew himself to his full height of six-foot five-inches, rolling his eyes and his shoulders as he did so.

"You know damn well what I'm pissed about, Shepard. Now where's the good stuff?" He grumbles good-naturedly as he looks around Shepard's expansive quarters (compared to his, anyways). She throws a finger in the general direction of the cabinets behind him, "Over there. Bottom cupboard to the left."

"Right."

"So, you going to tell me why Tali, Gabby _and_ Maxim came back covered in orange-colored goop today?"

Garrus non-so-gently slams the cupboard closed after pouring himself a heavy shot of Turian ale. He groans out loud again as he leans against the Captain's counter, "It was so… _stupid._ Why EVE told us that we'd get a better 'target practice' out there is beyond me." He knocks back half of his glass, not even phased at the burn as it makes his way down his throat.

"What I don't get, is that EVE is usually really good at calculating and anticipating those kinds of things. How she did not pick up on her scans that it was a 'glorfian beast habitat' is _beyond_ me."

Unbeknownst to the Turian ex-officer, his Captain is trying so hard to hold back a laugh at her First's expense. The mischievous glint in her usually dark brown eyes being the only giveaway that she knew more than was letting on.

"Seriously, Shepard!" He had finished his glass at this point and had turned around make himself another, animatedly retelling his tale, glad he could finally be childish about it, "It was already a pain-in-the-ass going over the basics in combat tactics with the engineers, but about a half-hour in, Kenneth had already sprained his stupid ankle, and Hsu nearly knocked himself over with the kick-back from a _pistol_!"

"A fucking _pistol_ , Shepard! That Salarian is probably still in medbay. The entire time he couldn't focus because he was so worried he'd 'fractured or bruised a vital organ' – ugh. Pussies. The girls were much better shots, but wouldn't stop _talking_."

"Tali and Gabby are our best engineers, and Tali knows how to fight. It couldn't have been _that_ bad, surely."

"I know, that's just it, Shepard! Alone or apart they are great. Serious, and Gabby at least _tries_ to learn how to handle the weapons properly… but _together_. Oh my god, it was like those silly earth-human movies you girls watch on your movie nights. Horrific. So much freaking _talking_."

She couldn't hold back anymore, Shepard belted out a laugh. Loud and obnoxious, laughing so hard that tears started to well in her eyes – taking a peek at Garrus' put-out expression didn't help the situation either.

"Seriously, Shepard… Shut. UP!"

This, of course, only made his Captain and friend laugh _harder_ , and him feel even more ridiculous.

He was going to march out of here. He really was.

What kind of Turian man takes this shit?

Exasperatingly, he watches – very unamused at Shepard's outburst – as he friend struggles for breath.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Shepard. Laughing that hard will surely kill you, you know. Bad habit, that." Garrus drawls, crossing his large, muscled arms over his jutting chest.

"Oh… oh yes, we wouldn't want that now… would…weee…heheeheehee!"

"Okay, I'm not seeing the humor in this. I'm leaving." He turns sharply and makes his way towards the door.

"NO!"

He stops and gives his friend the equivalent of a human eye-brow-raise, looking at her expectantly. Much like a parent would a child who was misbehaving. Scary thought, that. Children.

"Okay… okay okay…" She draws in a deep breath then lets it out with a happy sigh. Easily she re-composes herself on the couch with her drink that she didn't manage to spill throughout that attack and recounts Garrus again.

"So. Sorry, it's just… your reaction was great. Really refreshing to see someone else take the shit-assignments once in a while."

He glares at her, retracing his steps so he's closer to her. "What the hell are you _on_ about? You never get 'shit missions.'"

"Not true! You think I wanted to trounce about that hovel of a plant crawling with _Vorcha?!_ "

"At least you got to shoot them in the face afterwards."

Shepard almost does a spit-take at that. It was true, she did get to shoot them. Then blow them up. It was very satisfying after spending over _two hours_ trying to talk to the bastards. She was, what her mother used to say, "Pleased as peach" when they went back on their word (how little value it had anyways), but Anderson did want her to _try_.

"Anyways, Garrus, you totally deserved that."

"Look, I know I'm not an ass – what could I have _possibly_ done to –"

There's a pause in the conversation as everything comes together. It was as if, for the first time since he stormed in here, the Turian noticed the knowing glint in her eyes and the confidence in which she lounged and sipped at her martini.

All that cool composure she was trying to hold on to, was threatening to crack again at the look on her friend's plated face.

If Turians could change color, he'd be as white as a ghost.

At the moment all of his focus was on replaying the past week in his mind like the C-Sec interrogation feeds they'd watch in the officer lunch room back on the Citadel.

After about five aguishly long seconds to Shepard, Garrus breaks the silence.

"No." he says weakly, then as if it was an afterthought, he shakes his head twice.

His Captains teasing smile thins into a righteous smirk.

"Yes."

"No. She wouldn't…"

"Oh, yes. EVE is quite devious, I tell you. It was her idea, and I supported it one hundred percent."

Then a suave, female automated voice came over the speakers with EDI's blue orb that materialized behind him, "Thank you, Commander Shepard. I found it was necessary to apply the human idiom to give Vakarian a 'taste of his own medicine.'"

Garrus… did not know what to think… only that his eyes hurt from bulging out of his skull.

Shepard congratulated her favorite AI, snickering along with it as the AI recounted the 'misfortunes' of 'Vakarian's day out'.

The shock was fading and now righteous indignation was rearing its ugly head. He could feel the frustration and anger well up within his plated chest like a pressure-cooker –

So he let it out.

"WHAT?!"

Now Shepard dropped her glass, and her composure, as she fell forward and on her side to the floor – narrowly missing her coffee table.

Raucous laughter and EDI's not-so-apologetic apology chasing the embarrassed and enraged Turian out the door.

He rode the elevator down to the Cargo Bay in hopes he'll be able to let off some of his frustrations on the irritating, hormonal, pod-born Krogan before it was time to recalibrate shit again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **I do not own Mass Effect or their characters - only my own.**

 **\- Kallen**

* * *

There was a darkness that fell over the lab – not just an absence of light, that much was blatantly obvious… no, there was a strange, heavy… _eerie_ feeling that hung about the air. Her head was throbbing, or body ached. Everything hurt. She tried in vain not to scratch at a patch of purple that had started to consume her arm.

 _"_ _Consuming – that's the right word for it, this color is itchy and it burns. Feels like something is chewing on my arm with dozens of sharp, little teeth."_

Funny, that she would come up with this kind of comparison – never has she recalled being bitten before at the forefront of her mind, but if she was to focus hard… flashes of three, tiny… soft-looking things chasing a string along the ground… a hand… her hand? Reaching out… _ouch_ …

Sharp nails and teeth dig into the hand, the phantom pain comes before the slitting headache that rockets through the back of her skull. Groaning, she slides down and levels her head between her knees.

Deep, even breaths… breathe… don't vomit again… they won't be by to clean, and you don't know when food will come again.

It's already been three days.

* * *

He feels like a grade-A asshole.

Groaning, he rolls his neck and lightly drags his talons across the hide there, the hard bones in his vertebrae pop and crack loudly, making him wince. He hears a hiss behind him, turning quickly he is met with the tall, Salarian scientist who's now clucking his tongue at him and immediately pulling up his omni-tool to scan him. Garrus withholds the inclination to roll his eyes and just sighs in defeat – knowing well enough now, after all these months, that Mordin will not cease once he gets started.

"Vakarian. Low blood pressure. Core-temperature mmm – not optimal. Visibly tired, hide under eye-sockets – swollen. Prognosis: Exhaustion. Cause? No sleep – insomnia, the humans say."

"Yea, I have not been sleeping well lately."

No use in fighting it now, maybe the good doctor will prescribe or concoct him something to slow his mind down so he can forget about… things. And stuff.

"Stress. Exhaustion. No sleep – but still in shape. Been training, maintaining skills; muscle tone – so your mind. Trouble?"

He closes his eyes and rubs his brow before smoothing his large, lean hand over his fringe. A nervous tick he'd realized about himself – something he does in an effort to soothe.

Something the Salarian doctor had pointed out to him. Something Mordin now searches for, and has seen and noted, he's sure – so he'll call his bull shit, but he doesn't quite know what's up with him himself, exactly –

But that doesn't mean he wants to find out right now: so to delay the inevitable. "No, I'm fine… maybe anxious about the suicide mission to come. But everyone is, right?"

"Lie."

This catches him off-guard, and suddenly there's a weight that's dropped from his chest and then down to his trunk: he's dreading this already – he doesn't think he wants to know. But it's too late, because Mordin doesn't walk away after an observation, not without revealing something about yourself, someone or something you really didn't think you needed or _wanted_ to know –

Mordin is agitated now. He can practically see the super-sonic speeds that mind of his was running and it was making him even more exhausted. Maybe he'll blissfully black out right here before the end of this encounter.

"No. Not lie. Unsure. Grasping for reasons. Right… NO!" Mordin's pacing now, Garrus doesn't even flinch at the rise and falls of his voice levels, choosing to sit back and watch. Let the scientist think for him.

"No. You are Turian. Used to battles, fighting, no. It's a call-to-duty, experience in military, C-Sec, merc – _Archangel._ No. Not nervous, not apprehensive. Anxious, aware… maybe - not enough to lose sleep. _Not_ the reason for such lethargy and mental exhaustion. No… so…"

 _"_ _Here we go."_ Garrus thinks and his face falls, already accepting – but his spine straightens and his shoulders square back, arms crossing defensively just under his jutting carapace.

Mordin looks up from the floor where he was pacing, his large, tri-digit hand lightly touching his long, vertical jaw. He sees the Turian, observes his stance. Seeing the obvious reaction Garrus had to his thought process – _ah… he knows I'll find something. Trusting me to work things out for him? No. Trust in my abilities – yes. Weary of outcome. Knows I'll get it right – something he's aware of subconsciously? Maybe. Denial of weakness? No… avoidance of truth._

"No sleep. Endless thinking. Mind searching, working, _trying_ to uncover the _wrongness_ you feel… Yes?"

The doctor is patient as he sees Garrus' eyes try to gain back focus. _"Ah. Mental preparedness… or weak, cowardly reaction to known problem. Avoidance. Defense mechanism."_ Clarity returns to him, Garrus has caught up with the conversation the doctor is trying to have, and isn't sure what confirmation the Salarian doctor needs from him – but he nods his head, a little shocked that Mordin was able to voice his chief complaint, without much help or effort from himself.

"Hmm…" Garrus allows Mordin to speculate, holding the large, fathomless eyes of the Salarian with his own, beady, blue ones.

Suddenly, Mordin spins away, cutting off the one-sided staring contest that Garrus was having – throwing him a little off-guard when Mordin walks briskly towards the lift, turning on and punching things into his omni-tool.

"Good chat. Will talk later."

The scientist stops and looks to the left and up. Garrus follows his gaze to a vent.

He hears Mordin's boots screech against the sleek floor as he pivots back towards his destination and he stars to walk again.

"In private."

Garrus blinks owlishly at the retreating Salarian, eyes not leaving his white coat until the doors separate them.

He stares blankly at the closed doors, only moving his attention away when he hears a click then a screech – indicating a vent being opened. Then a soft thump as someone jumped out, landing gracefully.

Knowing it was either Kasumi or the drell assassin he turned to face them as casually as he could.

It was Thane, already making his way around the tables and equipment in the bay to get to him.

"Good evening, Vakarian. Everything well?" a melodic, throaty voice echoes quietly through the empty room.

A small bead of irritation started to sprout in his chest. He could tolerate and accept Mordin's prodding – because he doesn't actually search things out about people. The scientist observes, notices… and then is compelled to interrogate and irritate until something is resolved or a consensus is made – but that's Mordin. He can forgive his intrusion… but the drell was spying. Some reason that made him feel he had a good reason to be snippy with the ex-assassin.

"You apparently overheard our conversation, so please don't waste our time. Ask what questions you want – I'm tired enough to answer candidly, it would seem."

 _Now_ he pins the assassin with a droll look on his face, but his eyes are starting to harden. The exhaustion and irritation bubbling up within him again. He was feeling a little relaxed, if not confused, after his quick bout with the scientist – now he just wanted to be juvenile; say something inappropriate to the man, turn on his heels and haughtily stomp away with little dignity and no shits-given to consequences or reprimands of his attitude towards his team mates later.

The drell seemed to regard him for a bit before bowing slightly. "I apologize. It was not my intention to spy, though I am aware that is how it looks… but no. I was merely practicing my skills, and familiarizing myself with the vent systems when I happened to overhear."

Garrus shoots him a skeptical look, and is a little impressed at how the assassin takes it genially and in stride with his monologue as he continues.

"Yes, I know I could have then left, but your troubles are not as unique as you may think." Garrus narrows his eyes, not in irritation this time, but in confusion. The drell, the observant bastard, notices this and clarifies.

"There are no ulterior motives from me wanting to lend an ear or company for a… friend" after a moment's hesitation he back tracks, "… or teammate. It is, of course, solely up to you, but I wanted to offer a hand. I know times are trying, and sometimes one cannot stand-alone forever. It is not a weakness to seek help from another." Thane allows himself a sympathetic, nervous smile for the young, Turian male; a look that has all the tension and shackles Garrus was heaving upon his shoulders, revving up for a defense, loosen a little. Being skeptical, doubting and remaining on-edge all the time was wearing him down. He had enough going on that he doesn't even know the details of yet, the least he can do is relax about his team and partners a little.

He regrets his iciness towards the concern from the drell, and he feels a little better at seeing that Thane recognizes this, and doesn't take it personally. All this is communicated with glances; no words.

"Thanks…" his own three-toned voice is weary, but amicable. "I'll keep that in mind."

Thane nods, allowing another upward quirk of his lips, "That's all I ask. Doctor Solas has an interesting way of communicating, but he is the best at his job – though not always empathetic."

Garrus allows himself a grin and a breathy chuckle, "Or tactful."

Thane lets loose a throaty chuckle, before pivoting on his heel – much like the doctor did, he notes – and making his way towards the lift. He stops halfway there and turns back to regard Garrus with large, multi-lidded eyes. They used to un-nerve the Turian, but he's gotten used to their oddness.

"Would you like to accompany me to the cafeteria? I will be dining with Samara and Tali-Z'orah this evening, I know the ladies would not mind if you were to join…?"

Garrus takes a moment to respond, hesitating only because he'd unsure if he'll spontaneously be irritable or gloomy and withdrawn, should he agree. But found that, for the first time since the struggle with depression had gotten worse, he wanted to make the effort and try – to take that risk.

"Sure."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Slow start, but tell me what you think. FYI, there will be a lot of character development and psychological trials and traits explored. It's sometimes hard to capture those types of characteristics, so I want to try my hand.**

 **Finals for summer biology classes are this week, so I will be more active on here until Fall semester gets well underway.**

 **Cheers.**


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